After the sunset
by bibibubbles2101
Summary: Ginny is inexorably bonded to the sunset [This is an Italian fanfiction translated into English]


This is the work of an Italian author (daisy05), that I decided to translate into English, because it was too beautiful to be kept in a small site such as an Italian website for fanfictions. Please, review!

Reference chapter: J.K.R-Chapter 25- "The Mudblood Prince"

The darkening of the night; I've loved this particular moment of the evening since I was a little girl.

A crimson sphere that plays at hide-and-seek behind ivory clouds arranged in elegant curtains.

I can still feel, between my fingers, the childish ones of Ron, and I perceive, on the tip of my nose, pressed domineeringly, almost violently against the window, the chill that gleams from the glass, while in the crowded kitchen of the Burrow, the scent of mum's cookies diffuses around.

And the heart-shaped white aura on the glass, vanished under the insisting index fingers of two children, fearing the impending chiding of the mother.

And mum who sprinkles sugar on the cookies.

And Ron who fights with the twins for the last biscuit.

And my father who twirls me around, up his head, between the laughter of all my brothers.

Can a sunset, a simple, banal, ordinary sunset resurrect dusty emotions buried in the folds of time?

As I grew up, the spinning and the cookies have moved aside to let other actions, other gestures to settle in, which were identically reassuring in their daily repetitiveness: mum digging the comb -the one with narrow teeth, remember? The one your aunt used on you, come on!- into my coppery hair, Ron undergoing a pillow fight with Bill, bottles of ink being hastily closed and put into leather bags, the noise of folded parchments, the scent of roast meat in the Great Hall, the mockbickering between Ron and Hermione, enhanced by the six clangs of the pendulum on the wall, the quaffle hitting the mark...

And then... you.

You and your smile; you and your lively and careful eyes; you and your silvery laughter; you and your hands skimming on me with exasperating slowness; you and the mirror, the witness of my reddened face; you and the pillow, excellent host of my uncontrolled moans... of our moans.

The oceanic waves crash onto the rocky coast, the toes of my feet lifting, while the weight of my body leans toward the sea, so immense and uncontrollable... you're a lot similar to the sea, Harry, do you know that?

Impetuous in his destructive strength; reassuring in the peaceful coming and going of his waves; generous in his depths; emerald on his surface... you're the sea Harry... my sea.

I cover my naked shoulders with a woolly sweater, and your scent sneaks its way up to my nostrils, dripping into my lungs.

Your sweater, Harry... the one that you threw at me that night.

"I'm going away...".

Three words, Harry, only three warm exhalations that poured out from your lips, to stroke my face... to slap my soul.

Waiting.

A word that conceals in itself, a multitude of meanings... a multitude of realities.

Mother who waits for the sleep of her own son, on the edge of the bed; son who waits, patiently for Morphemes; soldier who waits, at the sunrise of the battle, the speech of dismissal from his General; General who waits, in the shadow of a tremulous tent, the body of one of his soldiers; woman who waits for her man; man who waits for his woman... wait, wait, wait... Wait for me.

"I'll wait for you.", whisper being exhaled from the doors of heaven, against your neck, naked and reddened... a promise sealed from you in me... the umpteenth demonstration of your infinite altruism.

You always donate something to those who don't deserve it...

And the best thing is that you would have the courage to tell me, "You're the one who's been given to me..."... I hate you, Harry.

I hate you and I love you, can this happen?

I hate you, because you've been able to tame me... woman of the twenty-first century who behaves like a woman of the eight hundreds... girl who waits, placidly decomposed on the sheets that still exude the smell of you and me... bear in mind, Harry, not of you or me... but of you and me.

You've changed me inside, Harry... you've violated the real me, in every way possible... physically and morally, forcing my personality, pushing me to adopt a mannerism that differed from the real Ginny...

The sunset smiles at me and then he loses himself in the turmoil of the Atlantic's waters... ruby fusing with emerald.

Everything reminds me of you... you're poison Harry... Because you kill me, you kill the Ginny that everyone knows... You killed her when you were an innocent twelve year old, stained from the blood of millenary monsters, and you still kill her... The memory of a past world, of a hope that has been repudiated during the journey of destiny, as fleeting as it is unpredictable.

I love the sunset, Harry, and you know that well... every phase of my existence is bonded to that circle of scarlet light... even that one... do you remember, Harry?

i "We're done for today, guys... you can go!"; brooms that gently glide down on the neatly cut grass, feet that touch the soil, soft and slippery, silvery laughter that float upon in the air.

Ron runs his fingers between his red hair, humid from the sweat, and then he gives you a friendly pat on the nape.

"Mate, I owe you a favor... if we didn't finish in time even today, she would've killed me!", he exclaims.

"Delayed homework, huh, Ron!", I murmur, with a teasing smile printed on my lips

Ron nods gravely, waving his hand as he launches himself inside the male changing room's door; laughter...

I approach you and touch your back.

"Only homework?", you ask to the wind, sure that it isn't my hand the one that is resting on your shoulder.

"I guess that spring for Ron hasn't arrived yet...", I answer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I intercept Dean's furious look, who loads the broom on his shoulders... I'm about to shift my hand from your shoulder, when yours covers mine.

"Let him look... we're not doing anything that goes against the law.", you exclaim, staring hard at Dean, who snorts angrily at the provocation.

"I guess that certain people find themselves in a team not only because of their sporting skills..."; I turn around to answer to the affirmation from Dean and, only seeing you a few centimetres away from his nose, I notice that my hand is no longer on yours.

"Repeat that if you have the guts to do that..."; you shake from the anger, and my mouth is so dry that it refuses to offer me the stream of words that, generally, gush from my lips in these circumstances... you understand, now, what I mean by saying that you're able to violate the real me, to the point to redeem it?

"I was wondering how Saint Potter hadn't gone to assist his little whore...", he says, without shifting his gaze from you.

I close my eyes for an instant, and for a fraction of second, I have the impression that those fists that you're tightening are getting ready to hurl themselves on Dean's face... but, as usual when the matter involves you, I'm wrong.

"It burns to accept the fact that she dumped you for me, doesn't it!"; Dean opens his mouth, and without any warning, he shoves you hard before going to take a shower.

You cross your arms on your chest and inhale deeply... you don't like fighting, Harry, I know that well... but when it's about us, you're ready to throw away even you're impartiality as a captain.

I move closer to you and bury myself in your chest, my eyes wet from the tears, and you clasp my waist in your embrace... I inhale your scent mixed with the pungent smell of your sweat and the wind.

"Are you... are you okay?", you ask me, planting a kiss on my temple while stroking my hair.

"Yes... I know it's stupid to cry, but... but..."; your caresses calm the unrestrainable tremour of my back... can a person who you really cared about think such things about you?

"Every thing's fine, Gin... it's okay..."; your lift my chin up and concede me one of your many smiles.

"Listen... how about a shower and then a nice walk in the park?"; I nod and silently, we part.

A bunch of minutes after, the fingers of one interlace with the other, the ties untied and the first buttons of the shirts unbuttoned.

A step... and a kiss, in the light of the sunset.

We slump under the ancient oak tree placed up on the little hill that watches over the Black Lake; the 'Giant Squid', how Ron dubs it, moves its tentacles and softly upsets the peaceful dark waters.

We roll onto the grass, bodies that skim one another, eyes that enchain in one another, hands that snake along each other's skin... God, I love you.

Your lips caress mine, and right in the instant when I attempt to deepen the contact, you burst out laughing.

I move away from you...

"Well! Don't you know that there's the parity between sexes?", I exclaim, provoking more laughter.

You shake your head.

"No, no, no... last year, if I'm correct, I accidentally took a peek inside Snape's pensieve..."; I interrupt you.

"Yeaah right... you did that accidentally, Potter, and I'm the Giant Squid..."; your index finger glides along the lines of my nose.

"Are you even listening!", you exclaim, with a smile on your lips; I nod.

"Well... it was a memory in which my parents were also present..."; my cheerfulness vanishes as soon as I hear you talking about your parents.

I cling on your chest with more force, and you stroke my tummy reassuringly.

"Hey, I'm fine... you should worry instead about your brother's reaction when he'll learn that we've been out until so late... I daren't imagine the face that he'll assume to welcome me in the dorm!"; and again, you burst into laughter.

"Yeah, so there were your parents... so why does this justify you from laughing at my face?"

"It was right under this tree that my father toiled painfully to conquer my mother's heart".

I burst out laughing.

"James Potter who toils painfully to conquer his woman's heart? He must've been a great guy, your dad...".

You nod.

"Hey, Weasley, blood isn't water!", you say.

"Tell me, what did Potter Senior do to attract your mum's attention?"; you cross your arms behind your head and I rest mine on your torso.

"Incredibly elaborated and extremely sophisticated courting strategies..."; you shift your arms to under my back in order to permit me adhere better on your body.

"Ruffle his hair with style...".

"As if he needed to do that...".

"...throw the snitch and grab it in less than two seconds...".

"Oh now I see from who you inherited that constant yearning of showing off..."; light pinch on my thigh and new laughter.

"...and hear, hear, stripping Snivellus from his underwear!"; we start laughing noisily.

"Stripping who from his underwear...?".

"Oh yeah, you don't know this... my father, Sirius and the others dubbed Snape as Snivellus...".

"Which means...?"; you bite your lips and you frown.

"Mmm... I never understood whether it was because his nose was always running or because his nose was always covered by drops of oily sweat...".

"And he took off his underwear!".

"I heard so...".

"Your father surely knew how to conquer a woman's heart...".

You turn toward me, with a malicious smile on your lips.

"How about me? Am I capable to conquer a woman's heart!"; I feign thoughtfulness as I move my face closer to yours.

"Mmm... the recent information tell me that yes, you're capable... but making sure about it doesn't hurt anyone!"; our lips touch and your fingers plunge into my red hair.

"I love you.", you murmur against my mouth.

"I love you..."; a breath that gets lost inside you.

I love you, Harry... I love you.

"Wait for me"... I keep my promises, Harry... you're the one who lied to me.

And I hate you, Harry... I hate you and I love you.

I stroke the cold tombstone made of rocks that rises in all its grandeur, facing the sea.

You're here, Harry... and I'm here with you.

They're coming... fervent from the unsatisfied revenges, unquenched grudges, instincts of violence that need to be vented somehow... and I wait for them, Harry.

In the same way I waited for you.

But you didn't come... so, Harry, I'll come for you.

The night makes her way through the streets, and the murkiness wraps around this plain made of rocks and grass, wet by the sea and the scent of your body.

Wand in my hand, wand raised at eye-level, wand that opens cracks of light in the darkness; wand fighting, wand attacking those shadows that threaten your rest, wand finding her sister wand; wand falling on the ground, wand on my throat; killer wand.

The sun lowers upon me too, my love... but it often happens that an end is nothing more than a new beginning... wait for me, wait for me in the same way I waited for you.

After the sunset, Harry... after the sunset.


End file.
